


Fight Club

by Jenksel



Category: The Librarians (TV 2014)
Genre: Flying Magic Swords, Friendship, Gen, Swordfighting, Swords, do not repost to another site
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:34:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25559641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jenksel/pseuds/Jenksel
Summary: Jenkins & Jake & Excalibur bonding.  For the Excalibur prompt of the Librarians Prompt Month 2020
Relationships: Excalibur & Jenkins | Galahad (The Librarians), Jenkins | Galahad & Jacob "Jake" Stone
Comments: 6
Kudos: 29
Collections: The Librarians Prompt Month 2020





	Fight Club

Jenkins pulled the long, flat, iron-bound oaken box out of the closet and carried it over to the desk in his sitting room. He reverently set it down on the desk and after digging an ancient iron key out of a drawer he unlocked the box, raised its lid. The immortal smiled in satisfaction as his eyes fell on the contents of the box: Two swords of ancient manufacture: One was a long, leaf-shaped double-edged blade with a hilt of nearly blood-red carnelian, the other was an even older short-bladed sword with a scabbard and belt made of woven human hair and decorated with precious gems and gold thread.

Without hesitation he chose the longer sword. He had won it the day after his knighting at the tender age of fourteen by pulling it free of a magic block of red marble floating in the river that flowed by Camelot, thereby proving himself worthy of owning it. Legend now called it "the Sword of the Red Hilt", but young Galahad, filled with all of the youthful enthusiasm and dazzling dreams of glory in battle, had named the sword Trystwch, meaning "Sorrow". The name was meant to communicate that he and the blade would bring only sadness and defeat to the enemies of Camelot, but in the end it turned out to be more aptly named than Galahad expected.

For, in his hands, the sword _did_ bring sorrow, defeat and loss to many men—and their families. And not to the enemies of Camelot only; Galahad learned in his very first battle that warfare was a decidedly inglorious, grisly business, no more really than state-sanctioned butchery, and every man Galahad killed over the years took a piece out of the knight's very soul and carried with him to the Afterlife. Galahad carried the sword every day after winning it, and he never carried any other into battle. It served to remind him of the foolish arrogance of his youth.

Holding it up now, he eyed the edges of the long, thin blade critically, then tested it by very lightly running his thumb down its entire length, checking the sharpness. Satisfied with its keenness, Jenkins removed the sword's simple red leather scabbard from the box and respectfully slid the sword slowly into it. He murmured the timeless prayer of the knight arming for battle as he buckled the weapon around his waist, his fingers still remembering how to do it in the traditional manner, and he adjusted it on his left hip so that it hung at his side just so. When he was happy with its positioning, he closed the box and relocked it, then turned and left his suite.

He strode briskly through the corridors, his long legs making short work of the distance between his suite of rooms and the spacious weapons practice room. As he breezed through the workroom, a pair of clear blue eyes, partially hidden behind a stack of books, flicked up from a thick folio on ancient African architecture and caught a glimpse of the tall man—and the longsword. Jacob Stone instantly recognized the blade as the legendary Sword of the Red Hilt, the sword of Sir Galahad. Sensing that something unusual was about to happen, Jacob silently scrambled to his feet and followed Jenkins at a safe distance.

When the Caretaker arrived at the practice room, he stiff-armed the door open and strode confidently through it. He stopped just inside the room and raised his white head as he narrowed his dark brown eyes. In the middle of the room hung Excalibur, unusually quiet and subdued, but as soon he saw Jenkins the magic sword yipped loudly with excitement and did a backflip.

"Are you ready?" asked the immortal crisply and began to strip off his suit coat. Excalibur barked again enthusiastically and spun in place wildly. Jenkins smiled and removed his bow tie, unbuttoned the top three buttons of his shirt, removed his cufflinks and rolled up his shirtsleeves to the elbow. He tossed his coat and tie over a nearby bench, slipped the cufflinks into the coat's pocket, then turned to face the waiting sword.

As Jenkins walked across the floor to where Excalibur was waiting for him, Jacob slipped into the practice room and crept behind a rack of spears, pikes and lances. He quickly pulled out his phone and began to furiously text the others, but then he stopped. He was sure that the secretive Caretaker was about to engage in a sparring match of some sort with Excalibur, and the historian knew the old man well enough by now to know that if the immortal even _suspected_ that he was being spied on he might just skewer Stone with that beautiful, deadly sword. Jenkins generally disliked talking about his youth and his days as a knight of Camelot, though he _had_ shared many stories with Jacob. But those were shared because Jenkins trusted him; in the end, Jacob decided to respect the old immortal's privacy. He would keep quiet and simply watch.

By now Excalibur was whining with barely restrained eagerness. Jenkins stopped a couple of yards away and pulled himself to his full, commanding height. He eyed the animated sword for a moment, expertly taking its measure.

"Shall we use standard melee rules?" he asked in a businesslike tone. "No holds barred, the match lasts until blood is drawn or until mercy is begged?"

 _Until blood is drawn?!_ Jake's jaw dropped as he quickly realized that this was not going to be a friendly sparring match between a Caretaker and one of the Library's artifacts. This was going to be the real deal—an actual, honest to god swordfight between Sir Galahad and Excalibur! Jake quickly shoved his hand back into the pocket of his jeans to claw his phone out. Privacy violation or not, there was no way was he going to let _this_ go unrecorded! Besides, Jake justified to himself, there was no law that said he _had_ to share the video with anyone else...

Excalibur barked once sharply in agreement with Jenkins's instructions. Stone made himself as comfortable as he could kneeling behind the weapons rack, his wide eyes peering excitedly between their shafts. He hit the "record" button on his phone's camera and waited.

The knight approached Excalibur, at the same time reaching into his trousers pocket. He pulled out a tiny brass bell and some string, and he proceeded to tie the bell to the pommel end of the sword's hilt. When he was finished, Jenkins stepped back several paces, his right hand crossing his body to grip the red hilt of his sword.

"Since you have no blood to draw, my goal will be to cut that bell free of your hilt," he informed the large sword. The moment Excalibur barked his agreement, Jenkins's weapon flew effortlessly from its scabbard, the blade barely making a sound as it slid free, and for some reason the action caused Jake's heart to begin pounding in anticipation. Jenkins smoothly turned the sword's tip down to rest on the floor, at the same time going down onto one knee, holding his sword's hilt upright in front of him. Excalibur turned himself tip-down in unison with Jenkins and came to rest lightly, quietly on the polished wooden floor. Jenkins bowed his head.

" _Exaudi, quaesumus, Domine, et confitentium tibi parce peccatis: ut pariter nobis indulgentiam tribuas benignus et pacem!"_ Jenkins intoned solemnly, his forehead lightly resting against the hilt of his sword. Stone automatically interpreted the Latin words in his head: " _Hear our prayers, we beseech Thee, Lord, and pardon the sins of those who confess to you, that they may grant us both pardon and peace"_. A thrill shivered up the hidden Librarian's spine; the formula was an ancient prayer of blessing routinely prayed by knights in preparation for battle—a prayer begging forgiveness for his sins in case the knight was killed in combat. Stone tensed, a shudder of expectancy going through him like electricity as he watched with a mixture of trepidation and curiosity to see what would happen next.

"Amen!" Jenkins finished the short prayer. He raised his head just long enough to kiss his sword at the point where the hilt and the crosspiece met, then swiftly stood up. He swung the blade of his sword upright and held it before him in salute to his opponent, and again Excalibur did the same. There was a split-second pause and then the battle was joined.

Excalibur launched himself at Jenkins with a savage snarl. A heartbeat later, Jenkins raised his sword as he prepared to block the blow, Excalibur's massive blade suddenly flaring bright blue with the magic he possessed. Unfazed, Jenkins let loose a war cry that chilled Jake's blood, and the immortal rushed to meet Cal. The two met in a furious tangle of clanging blades, shouts and howls.

The secreted onlooker watched in stunned amazement as Jenkins and Excalibur began to dance around the large practice room. Excalibur sang through the air, slashing, diving, swooping, stabbing viciously as he tried wholeheartedly to land a strike on the armor-less Jenkins, while the knight ducked, dodged, somersaulted, leaped and lunged with unbelievable dexterity and grace in someone so physically large, denying each attack with seeming effortlessness.

From where he was breathlessly watching, Jacob gradually became aware of a radical change in the normally staid Caretaker's demeanor. Utterly unreadable most of the time, Jenkins's face now bore a decidedly predatory look, fiery determination burning in the dark eyes now locked onto Excalibur, watching every movement the sword made, assessing the opponent's weaknesses, looking for every chance to strike at Cal while trying to anticipate the sword's next move. There was an air of raw, feral joy surrounding the immortal as he fought. Jake was reminded of videos he'd seen of wild animals that been kept in captivity and then released back into their natural habitats. Jenkins looked like one of those animals—freed now to be what he was always meant to be: A swift, cunning, powerful warrior. Jacob shuddered at the thought of having to meet someone like Jenkins in open, pitched battle.

Several times Excalibur seemed certain to do Jenkins serious injury. At one point the magic longsword slashed tirelessly to and fro like a scythe, forcing Jenkins backwards across the entire length of the practice room, then back across it again, Excalibur howling like a demon in frustration as the knight blocked and dodged and parried every single blow. Jenkins was panting hard, but he refused to give up the fight, continued to slash and feint, lunging at the tiny, jingling bell as he ducked underneath Cal's razor-sharp blade. He actually touched the bell with the tip of his sword's blade, but Excalibur managed to stay _just_ out of Jenkins's long reach. Sweat poured down the knight's red face, soaked through his shirt. After nearly thirty minutes of the stalemated fight, Excalibur's opening finally came when Jenkins slipped on a small patch of his own sweat that had fallen onto the wooden flooring. He lost his footing and fell flat on his back, his long legs and arms flailing helplessly for a split-second, the back of his head cracking against the flooring with such force that Jacob flinched and nearly cried out.

It was all the opening Cal needed; with a yowl of triumph, he aimed the tip of his blade straight at the fallen man's chest and flew toward him with all the speed he possessed. Jacob, his eyes wide with horror at what he was about to see, but too invested in the spectacle now to turn away, felt his trip-hammer heart skip a beat in his chest.

Excalibur was fast, but Jenkins was faster. The immortal had been in too many battles where this exact scenario had occurred, and he instinctively rolled to his right. He felt the cold steel tug gently at the upper part of his left sleeve as it sliced into the shirt's fabric, heard the dull metallic _thunk_ behind him as Excalibur drove himself into the lacquered maple flooring. Jenkins rolled a couple of feet away, then sprang to his feet, lithe as a cat. He cautiously backed away from Excalibur as the sword jerked itself from the floor with a snarl; the knight raised his sword ready for another attack, but none came right away. Jenkins took the opportunity to glance down at his arm where Excalibur had struck. Jake watched it all, holding his breath.

Jenkins looked back at Cal, and a wide, ferocious grin spread across the man's face.

"No blood!" he declared in a deadly calm voice to the waiting sword, and he turned so that Excalibur could see for himself that no blood marred the whiteness of Jenkins's shirtsleeve. Jake sighed heavily in relief. Excalibur, however, was enraged.

With an ear-piercing scream, the ancient sword blazed bright blue and flew at the immortal knight, the blade whistling savagely through the air as Cal hacked at Jenkins again and again. But the knight blocked Cal at every turn, warded off every stroke. His own weapon sliced the air and sparked each time the two blades met, the immortal grunting loudly with effort as he put his full strength into each swing. The perilous dance continued for almost another twenty minutes as Stone watched, completely mesmerized by the equally-matched combatants. Jedi knights had _nothing_ on these two; Excalibur and Sir Galahad were real, after all, and no fight choreographer in Hollywood could even _dream_ of designing a swordfight as exciting as this!

A wicked, knowing grin never left Jenkins's lips. Occasionally he shouted insults and taunts in a language that sounded like Welsh to Jake, but in a dialect unfamiliar to him as the immortal goaded his opponent. At one point Jenkins said something that must have been especially galling, and Excalibur reacted instantly. Baying like a bloodthirsty wolf, he hurled himself at Jenkins at lightning speed, slashing viciously again and again and again as he forced Jenkins into another defensive retreat until at last he had the old man, panting and gasping heavily for air, pinned against one of the practice room's stone walls. Jacob gasped as Cal swung his blade backward and overhead, looking as though he was going to split the knight's skull squarely down the center.

At the last possible moment of the down-stroke, though, the wily Jenkins dropped to one knee and rolled onto his right shoulder, moving out from underneath his opponent at the exact moment Excalibur's blade made contact with the wall, slicing deeply into the stone and stabbing inward at the same time, burying himself all the way up to the hilt where Jenkins's head as been only a second ago. Realizing too late that he'd been tricked into making this move, Cal screeched and struggled to remove himself from the unyielding stone before Jenkins could strike him from the rear.

But the fight was over. Jenkins sprang to his feet and seized the brass bell hanging off of Excalibur's hilt and brought the blade of his sword up. With a flick of his wrist Jenkins sliced through the string and freed the bell, a primal look of gleeful satisfaction on his face. Excalibur struggled a few more seconds, then stilled. After a brief pause, the longsword whimpered, admitting defeat.

With a shout of triumph, Jenkins raised his sword and saluted Excalibur before stepping back to gracefully slide Trystwch into the scabbard on his hip. He then took hold of Excalibur and helped to pull the vanquished sword free of the wall. As soon as Cal was clear, Jenkins released him, and Cal hung in the air in front of him, his blade drooping and almost touching the floor. He whined softly and crept forward, clearly dejected at having been defeated. Jenkins reached out to lightly touch the sword's hilt, as if comforting him.

"There, there," he rumbled amiably and smiled warmly. "You fought well, and bravely, too! You have nothing to be ashamed of, Excalibur; Arthur would've been _very_ proud of you today!" Excalibur immediately perked up and panted, yipping softly as his mood improved. Jenkins stood back and gave Cal a small, formal bow, then chuckled quietly.

"Well! Yes, why don't we go to the Armory now?" he said companionably, then held his arm out to indicate the door. "We'll go and check your blade out for dents and nicks, give you good going over with a whetstone, perhaps give you a good oiling while we're about it; what do say to that?" Cal barked ecstatically and flew high into the air to do a barrel-roll.

As Jenkins held the door open, Excalibur dropped and zipped past the immortal and through the doorway, barking loudly as he flew down the corridor towards the Armory. Jenkins walked over to where his suit coat and tie were draped over a bench and picked them up. He didn't put them on over his sweat-dampened clothes, merely draped them over his left forearm before turning and heading for the door to follow Excalibur. As he passed the weapons rack on his left, the knight stopped and raised his head.

"Perhaps you'd like to join us, Mr. Stone?" he rumbled, not bothering to turn his head. Jacob, shocked, slowly rose from his hiding place.

"How did you know…?" he started to ask, an embarrassed, uncomfortable look on his rugged face.

"I saw you as I passed through the Annex," the Caretaker replied mildly. "I almost called it off, but Excalibur has been so looking forward to this match ever since I agreed to do it, in the end I didn't have the heart to disappoint him." He lowered his head and peered sternly into Jake's eyes.

"I trust you won't tell the others about this?" he asked expectantly. His eyes flicked down to the phone still clutched in the Librarian's hand. "And I trust that you'll keep that video to yourself as well?" Startled at having been caught, Jacob raised his hand to gawk at the phone for a moment before quickly shoving it into a pocket.

"Uh, no—I mean, _yeah_! Yeah! I mean yeah, I won't show it to anyone! Promise!" he stumbled, his cheeks turning a deep shade of pink as he slid from behind the rack of polearms to stand in front of the tall immortal. He ducked his head slightly and looked up at the immortal, his expression going from sheepish to bashful.

"That fight—that was _incredible_ , man! You, uh… You wouldn't wanna teach _me_ how to fight like that, would ya?" he asked, emboldened by his hero's lack of anger at having been spied upon. "Maybe even…set me up with a little match of my own with Cal? Eventually, I mean…?" Jake punctuated his request by making a few small boxing punches in the air. Jenkins raised his head and peered down his nose at the Librarian for several seconds while Stone waiting anxiously for his answer.

"This isn't one of your video games, Mr. Stone!" he finally replied somberly. Jenkins was frowning and his brows were knit together in a scowl, but Jake saw a glint in the knight's brown eyes. "Doing battle with an opponent like Excalibur is like going into battle with the all of history's most skilled swordsmen at the same time—and it is totally beyond your current skill-set. One careless lapse in concentration and you're a dead man!" Jake's shoulder slumped in disappointment and his face fell.

"However…"

Stone's head instantly snapped up again. Jenkins rolled his aching shoulders and drew in a deep breath.

"However," he repeated thoughtfully as he tipped his head back and looked up at the ceiling, "You _have_ been a very attentive pupil over the last year or so that I've been teaching you swordcraft, and you've learned your lessons well. I think… Yes, I think we can come up with a way of covering Excalibur's blade with a sheath of some sort to prevent him doing you any injury." He lowered his head again and stared hard at the hopeful Librarian. " _After_ some lessons in advanced swordsmanship, that is!"

Jake could hardly believe his ears. His jaw dropped and Jenkins could literally see the younger man's excitement build up to critical mass. The Caretaker cocked his head slightly, lifted his free hand to stay any premature celebration.

"After all," he hurried to say, "We would want the fight to be at least as challenging for Excalibur as for you, wouldn't we?" Jake couldn't restrain himself any longer. He whooped loudly and jammed a fist over his head as he jumped up into the air.

"YES! YES! YES! Thanks, Jenkins! Thanks, man, you're the _best_!" he shouted, snatching the older man's hand and shaking it wildly. "How soon can we get started, huh? Today? Can we get started today?" Before Jenkins could answer, both men suddenly heard a sharp bark from the doorway, followed by a plaintive whine. They turned to see Excalibur hovering in the doorway.

"It seems Excalibur is impatient for his oiling," Jenkins said, amused. He turned to Jake. "We can discuss your new training in more detail in the Armory while I tend to Excalibur and Trystwch."

"Trystwch?" Jake repeated the word, a puzzled look on his face.

"I'll explain in the Armory," Jenkins said with a wave of his hand. He led Jake out of the practice room and they began to follow the eager Cal down the hallway. As they walked, Jenkins turned and fixed Jacob with a stern look.

"I would like to impress upon you, Mr. Stone, of the need for _all_ of this to remain just between us," he instructed. "Combat with magic weaponry is a dangerous business, and we don't want to worry the others unnecessarily, especially Colonel Baird!" Jenkins had look away to hide the smile that came to his lips as Jacob seemed to physically swell with pride and elation at the thought of having a special secret that was just between the two of them. The Librarian began to practically bounce along the corridor next to him.

"No sweat, Jenkins; you got it!" Jacob answered with enthusiasm. "The _first rule of Fight Club_ is: You do not talk about _Fight Club_. The second _rule of Fight Club_ is: You DO NOT talk about _Fight Club_!'" Jenkins deduced that Jacob was quoting _something_ , but the immortal had no idea what; probably something from one of those infernal video games that Jacob played with Ezekiel.

"Yes, quite," was all Jenkins said in reply. He shook his head in amusement as Jacob punched the air again and playfully half-chased a yapping Excalibur down the hallway a few yards. Jenkins hated to admit it, but as he watched the youthful enthusiasm of Jacob, he found that _he_ was excited, too. Until he'd begun teaching Jacob how to use a sword, Jenkins hadn't realized how much he had missed having anything like a squire to whom he could pass his vast knowledge and experience. The young Librarian was like a sponge, soaking up everything relating to knighthood and hanging on every story Jenkins told him about his own adventures as a young knight.

 _Perhaps_ the old knight thought to himself as he watched Stone teasing Excalibur, _Perhaps it's time to start thinking about officially taking him on as a squire?_

Jenkins tucked the thought into the back of his mind for now; he would have to run the idea past Mr. Carsen and Colonel Baird first. As he continued down the corridor, though, the idea quickly became more and more appealing.

 _Perhaps it IS time to take on a squire_ he thought again, and followed Jake and Excalibur into the Armory, his mind already putting together a training program for young Mr. Stone.

**Author's Note:**

> My last fic for the Librarians Prompt Month—I hope you enjoyed my contributions, and thanks for reading! ❤️


End file.
